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Post by BWAdmin on Jan 1, 2011 16:48:43 GMT -5
The year was 2087. Once beautiful cities had become flattened, barren wastelands. The towering majesty of mountains had collapsed, rewritten by battles of unimaginable brutality. Forests had burned to the ground, becoming desolate flats for low living creatures such as worms and bacteria, and only such. The people, who had once ruled the planet in all of its greatness, had fallen. They no longer stood almighty, although within the terrible illusions of war it might’ve appeared as though they did. The world was in panic. All of the history in the world has been rearranged. Books have been burned, and information, knowledge – it seems that they are useless tools. Fires blaze, destroying our proof of glory, and wars rage on and on. The fate of the world lies with the protectors: they are the only countries who’ve remained prominent symbols of power, and even they hold little hope for our planet. Everyone now knows pain. There is little light left. The time is ticking by. Who shall rise above as a savior? And who will fall to the pits of hell? Taken listSite
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